


Tabby

by ShutYourPieHole (KnittingElf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Canon Universe, Castiel Wants a Cat (Supernatural), Castiel is bad at humaning, Cat Owner Castiel (Supernatural), Cat-Lover Castiel (Supernatural), Fluff, Foster Cat, Gen, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Supernatural - Freeform, cats are assholes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27446521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnittingElf/pseuds/ShutYourPieHole
Summary: Castiel accidentally ends up fostering a stray cat. That's it. That's the fic.Zero plot. Guarantee of no danger to animals. Just loosely-connected scenes of adorableness.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Castiel & a cat
Comments: 23
Kudos: 37





	1. Cat

Cas is just standing there on the sidewalk in the dark, waiting for a call from Dean or instructions from Heaven, the streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement and making the street look like a black river with lights glowing up from the depths. He is simply waiting, not thinking or planning or _doing_ anything. He simply exists as he stands there. Until he hears it.

A faint rustling in the brush, a quiet mewling—these sounds catch his attention and he looks toward their source, a bush at the edge of the sidewalk about five feet away. Cas bends over to peer into the dark heart of the planting, and two round disks glow back at him. He straightens. It is an animal, he knows—after all, he knows more than all of humanity on earth combined—but he does not know what to do next. So he waits.

The night, Cas supposes, is cold. The rain ended much earlier in the night, but the temperature has dropped more since then. The occasional human hurries past on the sidewalk, arms wrapped around their middle, a coat pulled tight over their shoulders. Most of them don’t see Cas, but when they do they startle. One apologizes, but another yells at him.

Hours have passed, and Cas hasn’t heard anything more from the creature in the bush. But as the sky begins to turn gray, he is surprised to feel something brush against his leg. Cas looks down to see a wet, bedraggled cat weaving around his feet, the rumble of its purr not audible, but…touchable as it rubs against his calves and shins. Its fur is spiky with the damp, but he can see that it is a gray-brown color with stripes. The cat looks up at him and meows as if it wants something.

“I don’t speak your language,” he tells it, and it just meows louder. “If you need food, I don’t have it. You have claws and teeth. You can find your own food.” The cat sits down next to him and places one paw on his shoe.

Cas sighs and pulls out his phone, hitting speed dial, which Dean taught him last time they worked together. “Dean.”

The man on the other end of the line sounds confused. “Cas? It’s four in the morning.”

“I need your help. Do you know how to communicate with cats?” Cas hears the shifting of fabric on the other end of the line. Perhaps he woke Dean up?

“Communicate with…what? What are you talking about?”

“There’s a cat here. It is staring at me and doesn’t understand that I don’t have food for it.”

“You called me because a cat is _staring_ at you. Cas,” Dean breaks off to sigh, and it turns into a yawn, “Cats stare at people.”

“I’m not a person.”

“The cat doesn’t know that. Cats are assholes that stare at people.”

“Why?” He frowns down at the cat, which meows at him and pats his shoe with its paw.

“I don’t know, Cas. We never had a cat when I was a kid. Look, if you’re worried about it, take it to a vet—a veterinarian. They can see if the cat belongs to someone or if it’s sick. OK?”

“I will do that,” Cas says, and Dean hangs up.

“Come with me, cat,” Cas says, and begins to walk down the sidewalk towards the center of town. He looks back when he senses it isn’t following. The cat stares at him, takes a few steps, and then sits down again. It meows. Loudly.

“I still do not understand you,” he says, but goes back to stand beside it. “Are your legs too short to walk far?” The cat rubs its head against his pants leg and purrs. “I will carry you, but you might not like how we travel.” He picks up the cat with both his hands, holding it out in front of him, and then disappears.


	2. Veterinarian

Somehow, in transit, the cat escaped Cas’s grasp and ended up on his head, its claws digging into his scalp.

“Let go of my head, cat,” Cas orders it, but it just hisses at him. “I warned you that you might not like how I travel,” he tells it. “Sam and Dean find it strange, and their brains are much more complex than yours.”

The cat slaps him in the mouth with its tail.

The clinic Cas has appeared in front of is dark and locked. The writing on the door tells him he has three hours until it opens. He is good at waiting. The cat, however, isn’t. After a few minutes, it seems to trust that Cas won’t suddenly make it disappear and reappear somewhere else, and it moves from his head to his shoulder. Cas stays still, not wanting to startle it back up to his head.

He turns his head slowly to look at the cat, which blinks at him the pre-dawn light. “Why did you come to me, cat?” It blinks at him again, then looks away. “You can keep your secrets,” he informs it, “but I will get answers from you.”

The clinic employee who unlocks the front door jumps a little when she sees Cas standing there, the cat still on his shoulder.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks, opening the door.

“No.” Cas looks at the cat and asks, “Will you stay there if I walk this time?” It shifts a little, digging its claws into his coat. The employee looks at him, her eyes wide and uncertain.

“Fear not. This cat is harmless,” he tells her as he walks past her into the clinic. “It walked out of the bushes last night and meowed at me. My friend Dean said a veterinarian could tell me if it has a home.”

The employee has bustled back behind the desk in the front room. “If it’s chipped we can see if the owner’s information is current.”

Cas looks at the cat. “No, this cat looks like it’s whole. No chips.”

The employee makes a face that Cas has seen Dean make when he has just said something Dean thinks is _weird_. She says, “I’ll go get Dr. Washburn. We had a cancellation for her first appointment this morning, so we might be able to fit you in.” She walks down the hall and through a door. Cas could listen to their conversation if he wanted to, but the cat has started purring as it leans against his head, and he finds that he enjoys the sound. It’s a little like the rumble of the motor on the car Dean loves even though its an inanimate object and incapable of returning the feeling.

Another woman, this one wearing a white coat, comes out of the door the employee went into. “Hello, I’m Dr. Washburn, and you are?” She looks at Cas, her eyes wary although she is smiling. Apparently the employee told this woman about him being weird.

“I’m Castiel. And this is a cat.”

“Yes, Maggie told me you had brought in a stray. It certainly seems to have taken a liking to you. Follow me.” She turns and walks over to an open door, a room with table and a counter with medical instruments on it inside. Dr. Washburn gently detaches the cat from Cas’s shoulder and sets it on the table, praising it for being a “very good cat,” and a “sweet little tabby,” which Cas finds puzzling. The cat is just sitting there, lashing its tail back and forth. It has done nothing good. And how does the veterinarian know the cat’s name?

She takes out a device and says, “Let’s check for a chip,” and Cas is about to tell her that this cat doesn’t have any chips in it, but then remembers the look the other woman gave him. She runs the device over the cat’s back and shakes her head. “No chip.” He could have told her that.

“I would recommend you take the cat to our local shelter,” she says, and gets out a business card and hands it to Cas. “They can hold the cat to see if it has an owner who is looking for it.”

Cas nods. “Is the cat sick? My friend said you could tell me if it’s sick.”

Dr. Washburn gives him the _weird_ look. But she takes out a stethoscope and moves it around the cat’s chest and abdomen, listening. She lifts its tail and examines the cat’s backside. “I’m not hearing anything wrong,” she says, “and the shelter can do a more thorough exam. Also, it’s a girl.”

“So Tabby is a girl’s name.” That earns him another look.

“If you’d rather, we can take the cat to the shelter,” she says, and he considers the offer. He has not received any instructions from Heaven or any calls from Dean, so maybe it would be good to do something instead of just waiting.

“No, I will take Tabby to the shelter,” he says, and picks the cat—Tabby—up, and walks out of the room, past the desk where the employee stares at him, and out the door. He walks around the side of the building where people won’t see him, and holds the cat up to his face. “We’re going to travel my way again,” he tells her. “Please don’t climb onto my head this time.”


	3. Foster

Tabby does not end up on his head this time, but plastered to his chest, her claws digging through his white dress shirt and into his skin. “Ouch,” he tells her, looking down into eyes so dilated he can barely see any iris. “I should have told you to stay in my hands.” He strokes her head with one finger, and the cat slowly relaxes, her pupils narrowing and her claws retracting. He walks into the shelter.

Cas leaves the shelter without Tabby. Trina, who was working inside, told him they would keep Tabby for 72 hours in case her family came to look for her. He thinks he should feel relieved—after all, he is an Angel of the Lord, not an Angel of Cats, and he has a mission. The fact that the mission has involved a lot of standing on street corners waiting for instructions doesn’t make it any less important that he be ready. But Cas is…not relieved. In fact, when Trina asked if he might be willing to foster Tabby if her family didn’t come for her, he said “Yes.” Quickly. Before he could think (and he thinks very fast).

He goes to see Dean and Sam.

“What do cats need?”

Dean and Sam jump. They never seem to hear him arrive.

“What?” Sam asks in a whisper.

“Little busy here, Cas,” Dean says, and points ahead into the gloom. Oh. They are in a dark warehouse and Dean is carrying a machete and Sam a syringe full of dark blood. “Vamps,” Dean adds.

“Just a moment,” Cas says and then appears in front of the vampires deeper in the warehouse. He kills them with a touch and goes back to Dean and Sam, who jump again. “The vampires are gone now. What do cats need?”

Dean shakes his head. “If you're that good at killing vamps, we should have asked you along in the first place. Do you still have that cat you called me about earlier?”

“No, but if Tabby’s family doesn’t claim her, Trina said that I could foster her.”

“Tabby?” Sam asks, smiling.

“Yes, the veterinarian informed me that her name is Tabby.”

“Is that her name or just her color?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

Sam starts to speak, but Dean waves him silent.

“Are you sure you can take care of a cat?”

“I am an Angel of the Lord.”

“That’s…not an answer.”

But Dean and Sam still help him out, making a list of things he will need—cats, it turns out, need a lot—and giving him some cash.

Seventy-two hours later, Cas is back at the shelter. He had filled out the application to become a foster and gave her Bobby’s name as a reference check, and Bobby must have said the right things because Trina called and said no one came for Tabby. So here he is, but prepared this time. Trina looks at the cat carrier backpack he is wearing.

“You…sure went all out,” she says.

“Tabby doesn’t like it when I hold her and travel,” he says.

Trina shakes her head a little but gives him a bag of food and litter.

“Let’s go, Tabby,” he says over his shoulder once they are outside. She meows at him from inside the carrier, and he takes them home, or rather, to an empty house he has filled with everything on the list Dean and Sam gave him, along with what Dean told him were “impulse buys.”

Tabby swishes her tail as she exits the carrier, her nose sniffing the air and the objects around her. Cas points and tells her, “This is a litter box. That is where you excrete waste. This is a scratching post. That is where you scratch. That is a cat bed. You will sleep there.” Tabby looks at him and meows.

“Yes. I was getting to that. These are your food and water bowls.” He puts the amount of food Trina told him to into the bowl and Tabby runs over to it, her tail held high. She starts crunching the food. Cas holds a piece up to his nose and smells it. He makes a face. “Your food smells terrible,” he tells her, but she is purring loudly as she eats, so he supposes she doesn’t mind. He watches her eat her food and then drink some water. Tabby walks over to him and rubs her face on his pants leg, purring. He crouches down and pets her head—she seemed to like that when they were at the shelter before.

Cas doesn’t know how or why, but now he is sitting on the floor, and Tabby is curling up on top of his legs. She purrs and her eyes start to close, and he sits there and waits. He is good at waiting. But this waiting is different than before—it’s like being with Dean and Sam, but with less talking, and much less killing.

“I think you are a gentle creature,” he tells Tabby as she sleeps on his lap. She only stretches and purrs before falling deeper into sleep.


	4. Mouse

The cat drops a dead mouse on Cas’s foot. 

“Tabby, that is not what a gentle creature does,” he says, wiggling the shoe until the mouse falls off. Tabby purrs at him, picks up the mouse, and drops it back on his shoe.

”I am not God. You don’t need to make sacrifices to me. That isn’t done anymore.” He shakes the mouse off again and crouches down to look into the cat’s eyes. She blinks at him and does a little chirrupping meow.

”I feed you. You don’t need to kill anything.” Tabby starts washing her face. Cas is beginning to suspect that this is her way of telling him he’s an idiot.

”You’re wrong, you know,” he tells her, scratching her behind the ears. “I am wise beyond measure. I saw the first animal move onto land from the sea. I know you do not need to kill mice.” 

Later, he brings Dean and Sam to meet Tabby. “She killed a mouse earlier today. Do you think she is possessed by a demon?” He already knows she isn’t, but it seems like a good conversation starter.

”What? No, Cas. Cats kill things.”

”But I feed her. And I give her treats.”

”I don’t know what to tell you, Cas, but that’s just what cats do.” Dean’s brows are furrowed.

”It’s an instinct, Cas,” Sam adds. "Animals have natural drives to do things like hunt and play.”

”Ah, like humans have an instinct to watch television.”

”...sort of,” Sam says, grinning at Dean.

”I have watched many humans, and they all watch television.”

”OK, Cas, why did you bring us here?” Dean asks, clearing his throat. “Demons to gank? Apocalypses to stop?”

”I wanted you to meet Tabby.”

”Really? Because we, we’re kind of busy.”

”You were watching television when I arrived.”

Sam laughs, “He’s got you there, Dean.”


	5. Hairball

Tabby is making a horrifying sound, a sort of “hhrrrrech-uh hhrrrech-uh” as she crouches on the floor and her small body heaves. Cas stares at her, feeling...something besides his usual curiosity. He feels _bad_. 

"Tabby, stop that," he orders, but she continues to make the horrible sound until with a final "HHHRRRRRRECH" she expels a tubular mat of—fur? It looks like wet fur. She shakes her head and goes over to her water bowl and drinks while Cas regards the abomination that Tabby has created.

Cas kneels down on the floor and looks at the abomination up close. It stinks like digestive fluids, and Cas is 95% certain it is not a kitten. Those come out the other end, right? And Trina at the shelter said that Tabby had been spayed, which means she can't have kittens. A mystery, then. Since Tabby seems content now that she has purged herself of this foul-smelling monstrosity, curling up on the new heated cat bed he purchased yesterday, he decides to investigate.

"Sam, I need you to help me research a mystery using the internet."

Sam twitches and says, "Jesus, Cas. Please stop appearing right behind us."

"There are at least two feet between us. Right behind you would be much closer." Cas walks right up to Sam's back to demonstrate. Dean walks into the room.

"Cas, it's creepy when you stand that close to people."

"You have informed me of that. I was demonstrating to Sam that I don't appear right behind you. I have learned that leaving a few feet of space respects your boundaries."

Dean rolls his eyes.

"Please tell me you've got something exciting for us, Cas. It's just been a string of slightly-annoyed ghosts lately. Not even a vengeful spirit."

Sam turns and says, "You said you have a mystery we need to research?"

"I do." Cas places Tabby's abomination down next to Sam's laptop. Sam recoils.

"What is this?" He has clearly smelled it at this point, and he covers his nose and mouth. Dean leans over to look and says, "Where the hell did you get this?"

"It came out of Tabby."

Sam lowers his hand and says, "You want me to investigate a _hairball_?"

"It is clearly not a ball."

"No, no, that's just what they're called. Cats throw them up sometimes."

Dean comes around the table to glare into Cas's eyes. "Dammit, Cas, I thought this was at least some demonic shit. I think you're a little too focused on that cat. You gotta get your head back in the game."

"Nothing that I do is a game."

"Figure of speech, Cas. You're losing focus."

"Now that I have solved this mystery thanks to Sam, I will continue to work on our larger plan." 

He returns to Tabby, who blinks sleepily at him. She no longer objects to his comings and goings, and if he takes her with him, she stays calm as long as she is in the backpack carrier. He sits beside her and runs a finger along the length of her head. 

"I will call Trina tomorrow and learn more about these hairballs," he tells her. Tabby purrs and nudges his hand with her head, which he now knows means, "Shut up and pet me." So he does. Tabby falls asleep purring, and he sits beside her through the night, fingers running through her fur as he waits.


	6. Toy

Tabby runs across the room to greet him when Cas appears. Tail high in the air, she butts her head against his leg, purring loudly. 

"Hello, Tabby," Cas says. He would crouch down to pet her, but his hands are full—he has discovered that she likes a particular kind of wet food with salmon in it better than the food the shelter provided, and he also bought a new toy when he was at the pet store. He sets the cans of food on the counter and Tabby follows him, meowing. "Do you know that I have brought more food?" He suspects that Tabby is wiser than her linguistic limitations would suggest. Once, he returned to the apartment but forgot to make himself visible, and she looked right at him. He would need to ask other angels about this, see if they knew about any special powers that cats have, but he's reluctant to share news of Tabby with them for reasons he can't quite name. 

Tabby zooms to the other side of the room and then runs back. "Do you want to try your new toy?" he asks her, and she pounces on his shoelaces.

Cas unrolls the strip of fleece from the plastic stick. It's not actually fleece—something he informed the person at the pet store, which seemed to puzzle them, but they should know the difference between fabric and sheep's wool. The packaging said that he should be careful with this toy, as some cats might get aggressive, but he thinks Tabby is too dignified to lay waste to the house he has set up for her. For them? He has been spending more and more time here. After all, Tabby might get lonely if he is gone for more than a few hours at a time. 

Tabby regards the dangling strip of felt in front of her. "You can play with this," Cas explains, but she just stares at it. Cas regards the toy. The felt is on a stick, so perhaps he should try swishing it back and forth?

Tabby bats at the fleece with her paw and Cas feels a spark of pride. "The package promised that this toy would drive you crazy, Tabby, and you are still quite sane," he admonishes her, and he hopes she knows he is making a joke. He just learned how to make those after months of observing Dean and Sam. He tries swishing it faster. Tabby pounces, biting the fleece while trying to kick it with her back paws. Cas startles himself by laughing with joy. "You are very fierce," he informs her, and pulls the fleece away, moving across the room to see if she will chase it. Tabby wiggles her backside and then pounces again. Cas laughs again.


	7. Impala

Cas zips Tabby into her backpack carrier. 

"We're going to see Dean and Sam," he informs her, and she paws at the mesh separating her from Cas. "No, I won't let you out of this," he says, touching her paw with one finger. "You would only climb on my head again."

They appear in the back seat of the Impala, and Dean notices them when he looks in the rearview mirror. The car swerves a little before Dean recovers from the surprise. "Cas! Maybe give us a call next time before you show up."

Sam turns around to look into the back seat. "Oh, hey Cas. Did you bring Tabby?" Sam has helped Cas with Tabby a few times, even sitting with her for a while one day while Cas did a heaven-ordered task. Cas removes the carrier from his back and Tabby meows when she sees Sam.

"Hey, cutie," Sam says, and wiggles his fingers against the mesh. Tabby thinks he is playing and bats at them.

"Tabby, Sam is not a mouse," Cas informs her.

"Don't you dare let that cat out in Baby," Dean says, frowning. "I won't have her scratching up the seats."

"Dean!" Sam punches his brother on the shoulder.

"Tabby would not be safe if I let her out," Cas says, and puts the carrier on the seat next to him. "The seats of your car are safe. From her." Cas frowns. "Although I think you are a greater threat to your car's safety, Dean, since you seem to crash it with some frequency."

"You'd better get out of here if you're going to talk like that," Dean says, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles go white.

"Whoa, whoa," Sam jumps in. "No one needs to be upset."

"Cas just said I don't take good care of Baby!"

"I merely made an observation."

Sam's interjection is cut off by a wail coming out of the carrier. The unholy yowl is followed by a retching sound. Dean says, "Cas, that cat had better not—" but stops mid sentence when Tabby vomits through the mesh and onto the seat and floor of the car.

"It seems Tabby does not enjoy car rides." 

"Jesus, Cas, use your angel magic or whatever to clean that up before it stains!"

Cas blinks at Dean in the rearview mirror. "Angels don't have magic." He uses the tail of his trench coat to wipe at the mess Tabby has made. "Poor Tabby, did the car ride make you feel sick?"

Sam is trying hard not to laugh while Dean glowers in the driver's seat, muttering under his breath. They pull into a gas station and Dean almost sprints into the bathroom, coming out with paper towels and shoving them at Cas. "Clean up after your damn cat, Cas." He gestures for Cas to give him the trench coat, and so Cas is left in his white shirt and dress pants, wiping up cat vomit while Tabby cleans her face with her paws. Dean returns, the tail of Cas's coat wet but clean, and leans over to look into the carrier.

"No more vomiting, Tabby, or you're banned from the Impala forever." 

"I don't understand why you don't like Tabby," Cas tells him. "She has all of the qualities humans find endearing: her eyes are large compared to the size of her head, she is soft, she enjoys people, and she provides free pest control."

Dean shakes his head. "Does it really matter if I like some cat, Cas?" 

Sam walks around to the back of the car and says, "Dean's jealous."

"I am not jealous of a cat!" Dean rounds on Sam, fists clenched, and Sam raises his hands, palms open. 

Cas cocks his head to one side. "I would like to hear Sam's theory." Dean rolls his eyes.

"Well, Dean is used to you coming whenever he calls, but now you've got Tabby and you're...busy," Sam says, having backed around the Impala so that Dean can't reach him. Dean's objection to this is emphatic and colorful.


	8. Treats

Cas shakes the new bag of treats when he arrives, and Tabby dashes out to meet him, her tail held high and vibrating as she meows.

"Patience, Tabby," Cas says as he tears off the top of the bag. It's a joke they share. Tabby wants everything immediately and Cas always tells her to to be patient. He smiles to himself. "Let's practice what you learned." He walks over to the scratching post and taps it. Tabby digs her claws into the sisal and scratches. "Very good!" Cas says, and gives her a treat. She crunches it down, then climbs up the post to try to get more treats. "That isn't what we practiced, Tabby," Cas says, "You have to get down first." 

Tabby swats at the bag of treats, her pupils huge. Cas ignores her claws and gently nudges her belly until she hops back down. He taps the post again and she scratches. "See? That isn't so hard," he says as he feeds her another treat.


	9. Cat-sitter

The call came in early one morning as Cas waited for Tabby to wake up. Orders from above to pursue a group of demons who were messing with things they shouldn't. "Mondays, am I right?" Cas asked Tabby as she blinked awake. He'd heard that on a television show and a bunch of invisible people had laughed when a character said it, so Cas was trying to say it more often. Dean always rolled his eyes when Cas pulled out his new vocabulary, and once Sam had said, "But it's Wednesday," but Cas thought it made him sound more human. Blending in was getting easier.

It sounded, from the summons, that this could be a multi-day job, and Cas didn't want to leave Tabby alone for that long. He looked around the space he had created. What did Tabby absolutely need to survive?

Cas was proud that he remembered to show up _outside_ of where Sam and Dean were, which was Bobby's house. He knocked on the door and gave Bobby his politest smile when the older man opened the door. Bobby grimaced, and Cas could not tell if it was because Bobby wasn't happy to see him (but who wouldn't want to see an Angel of the Lord?) or if he had gotten something about the smile wrong. "I have business with Dean," he announced, and Bobby turned around and yelled, "Dean! Your angel friend is here to see ya!" and turned around to walk back into the dark interior, grumbling to himself. 

Cas followed, certain that Bobby had simply forgotten to invite him in, as was only polite when dealing with angels, and it only took him two tries to fit himself, Tabby in the backpack carrier, and the two large bags he was carrying through the narrow doorway. 

"What's up Cas?" Dean walked into the entryway of the house, his eyes widening when he saw everything Cas was carrying. "Uh, you going somewhere?"

Cas dropped the bags to the ground and took off the carrier backpack, setting it gently on the floor. He turned around and closed the door before turning back to address Dean. "I am, and Tabby needs someone to take care of her. She is a fierce predator, but she also depends on others to take care of her. It's puzzling when you think about it."

Dean stared at him for a second before holding up his hands and taking a step back. "Whoa, Cas, I am not cat-sitting for you. Not in my job description."

Cas frowned. "I didn't say anything about sitting. In fact, you should not sit on Tabby."

Sam poked his head into the entryway and said, "Cat-sitting is just a word people use to describe taking care of someone else's cat."

"Thanks for the assist," Dean said over his shoulder, "But now that we've gone over word definitions, can we get back to the part where I'm not taking care of Tabby?"

"Why not? You're not hunting a monster right now, are you?"

"No, but..."

"And you are my friend, correct?"

"Yes, but..."

"And you will not need to take Tabby anywhere in your car, so she won't throw up on any of your belongings."

Dean sighed. "Fine, Cas, but you'll owe me."

"You want payment? That can be arranged."

"Ok, fine. But only for a few days, and if I do this, you'll promise to teleport me and Sam anywhere we need to be at a time I decide."

Cas frowned. "Teleport?"

Dean waggled his fingers in the air. "You know, angel travel, the heavenly express, whatever you call it when you disappear and reappear somewhere else."

Cas nodded and said, "Very well. Let me show you everything I brought."

It took some time to go through everything, and Dean said at one point, "You know, you didn't need to bring _three_ different cat beds, Cas," but Cas felt much better about the situation as he readied himself to leave. 

"Will you be a good, fierce cat?" he asked Tabby, scratching her chin as she purred. "Dean and Sam and Bobby will do a very good job of sitting for you." He thought he heard Dean choke back a laugh, but he chose to focus on Tabby, the way her stripy fur felt hot to touch in the pool of sunlight she was basking in. "Don't forget where your litter box is," he admonished her before straightening up. "Please call me, Dean, if anything happens. You know what hairballs are, right?"

"Yes, Cas. You're worse than a mom sending her kid off to school for the first time."

"Don't let her outdoors."

"We won't. Jeez. Get a move on. It's like you don't think orders from God are a big deal or anything."

Cas made himself walk away from Tabby and then left to go take care of business. 


	10. Christmas

Once again, Cas remembered to arrive outside Bobby's house. It had been a long few days, and although angels didn't need rest or food, Cas was tired. He frowned as he waited for someone to answer his knock. He'd heard Dean and Sam complain about being exhausted, had seen how dark circles appeared under their eyes when they did not get enough sleep, but he had none of their needs. So what made him feel like he didn't have enough energy to do the work he was called to do? Was it that he was doubting the work Heaven wanted him to do? He knocked again, putting aside his concerns as a new one arose—why wasn't anyone answering? Dean's car was by the house, so they hadn't left Tabby alone. What if demons had come and killed them all? Cas was about to tear the door down when Sam answered it.

He grinned at Cas. "Merry Christmas!"

"You know that this is not, in fact, Christ's birthday?" 

Sam's grin widened. "Yes, Cas—pagan holiday, pagan tree, all that stuff. But humans like reasons to get presents and drink alcohol."

"But you and Dean always drink alcohol." Cas paused. "Bobby, too. Wouldn't it be more unusual for you to not drink?"

"Cas, you're letting in all the cold air. Come in." 

Cas followed Dean into Bobby's living room, where a scraggly tree had been set up with tattered tinsel and ornaments hanging from its branches. Crumpled wrapping paper sat in a pile beneath the branches. Dean had a bow stuck to his head, which he scrambled to get out of his hair when he saw Cas.

Bobby grunted at him and raised a beer bottle in salute. "Do you bring us tidings of great joy?"

Cas frowned. "Like I told Sam, Christmas isn't..."

"Pagan holiday!" Sam broke in, and Dean snorted. 

"How'd ganking demons go?" Dean gestured for Cas to take a seat in an armchair as he asked. Cas sat on the edge of the seat, looking around the room. Where was Tabby?  
  


"Well. We won." 

Dean waited, like he expected Cas to say more, and Cas looked around the room again. A sudden rustling from the wrapping paper caught his attention. The pile was moving, and then a small, gray nose poked out of the pile, followed by whiskers and the rest of Tabby's head. 

"Tabby!" Cas was off the chair and beside the pile in a second. Tabby stretched, shedding wrapping paper, and put her front paws on Cas's knee when he sat down so that she could rub her face on his chin. He noticed that she was...wearing a sweater? It was knitted, with white snowflakes on a dark blue background. Cas looked at Dean, who shrugged and looked sheepish.

"Bobby's house can be a little cold, and...it's Christmas."

Sam laughed. "Tabby owns Dean, Cas. He ever let her sleep with him at night."

"I didn't want to be responsible for Cas's cat freezing to death!"

"Dean's in loooooooove," Sam and Bobby chorused, and Dean flushed scarlet. 

"Tabby is very lovable," Cas told Dean. "There is nothing to be ashamed about."

That just made Dean blush even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's unrealistic to have a cat willingly wearing a sweater, but TABBY IS MAGICAL (not literally).


	11. Meet-and-greet

Cas's cellphone rings, and it's not Dean or Sam. He answers.

"Cas? It's Trina from the shelter." 

Cas's heart stutters. It's an odd feeling, but since he's not used to having a heart everything it does is odd to him. 

Silence stretches out. "Cas?"

"Oh, hello. Trina. Yes." He's used to Dean and Sam on the phone, but Trina seems to expect him to do things differently.

"We got our first inquiry about Tabby, and I'm wondering if you could bring her here for a meet-and-greet tomorrow."

"A meet-and-greet?" He's pretty sure that if he were Jimmy still he would be dead from his heart not beating. Tabby might leave?

"Yes. Remember how we talked about that? How people who were interested in adopting Tabby would get a chance to meet her first and see if she would work with their family?"

Cas looks at Tabby, who blinks at him sleepily. He wants to say that Tabby is _his_ family, but he does remember that conversation with Trina, back when he'd just met Tabby and didn't know what an excellent creature she was yet. "Yes. I do remember. Let me check my calendar." He's heard people say that on the television. "I can make tomorrow work. What time?"

"They said they'd be free in the afternoon. Would 2 PM work?"

Cas agrees and hangs up the phone. He crouches down by Tabby, who lifts her head up to rub her cheek against his hand. "Do you want to meet some new people tomorrow?" he asks her, and she purrs. Cas takes some comfort in knowing that Tabby doesn't understand human speech, because he doesn't want her to be excited to meet new people, which is selfish of him. Angels of the Lord are supposed to be selfless, focused on doing their work, and here he is jealous over a cat's affections. Granted, he's befriended humans and cares about them, which is already something angels aren't supposed to do, but Cas is pretty sure that Heaven would think a cat was going too far.  
  
Cas is early to the appointment at the shelter, and Trina greets him and Tabby. Tabby seems to have decided Trina is a good person, because she lets Trina give her scratches under her chin. Cas pauses—Tabby lets _everyone_ do that. Oh no. The meet-and-greet is going to go well. And that is terrible. 

"It's better if you're not in the room for the meet-and-greet," Trina is telling him as he brings Tabby into the room where she will meet the people who want to adopt her. "Otherwise the cat or dog tends to pay more attention to the person fostering them."

Cas nods as an idea begins to form in his head. The idea grows and blossoms as Trina leads him to another room and offers him coffee. He declines.

When he hears Trina greet a couple and take them back to meet Tabby, he goes to the room they're in, but doesn't make himself visible. Not that useful a trick in Heaven, where everyone can do it, but very helpful on Earth. Tabby is looking at the man and woman who are in the room, her tail high and just the tip twitching back and forth. When he appears, Cas could swear that Tabby looks right at him. Which...she shouldn't be able to? But when he crouches down and holds his hand out, she walks over to him. She doesn't rub her face on his hand, but she sits and stares at him.

"Aw...kitty, come here!" The man says, clucking his tongue. 

"Give her a few minutes," Trina says from her position by the door. "She's in an unfamiliar environment and with new people. It might take her a bit."

"Why is her name Tabby?" the woman asks. "Did you all run out of cat names?"

"Oh, her foster named her that," Trina says, smiling. "He was very serious about it." 

"Tabby, Tabby!" the man is still trying to get Tabby's attention. Tabby gives Cas a look that he can only interpret as unimpressed. 

The couple ends up leaving with a kitten, and Cas suppresses a smug smile as he zips Tabby back up into her carrier. 

"It was so weird," Trina is telling him. "Tabby's super-friendly with me, and she started out really friendly with them, and then she just turned her back on them and ignored all of us. "You sure you don't just want to adopt her?"

Cas stops what he's doing, thinks for a moment. "I...I hadn't thought about that. My job can be unpredictable. But maybe..." he trails off and regards Tabby through the mesh panel. She blinks once at him. He blinks back. "I'll think about it."


	12. Brush

Cas stared at the packaging, the word "Furminator" still puzzling and mysterious. Dean had laughed when Cas showed it to him and said Cas would have to watch a movie starring Arnold...Schwarze-something? He shook his head. Dean had said he and Sam would come over and watch it some time when they weren't busy, but they always seemed to be busy. 

"Tabby," he called out, and there she was, a streak of brown fur striped with darker and lighter colors, chirruping at him and weaving between his legs. He leaned down to give her scratches behind her ears, and she butted his hand with her nose. "I brought you something very special," Cas informed her as he knelt down on the ground and wrestled with the cardboard and plastic encasing the brush. "It's going to keep you from throwing up another hairball. I hope." 

Tabby sat down in front of him and blinked her eyes once, twice. Cas blinked back. He'd watched a video on the computer at the library that said it was how cats said hello, and he wanted to use her language as much as possible. It seemed only polite. The librarian who'd helped him find the video had searched for books on cat language for him, but said he couldn't find anything specific about it but that he'd keep looking. Cas hoped that the librarian would find something good—he knew so many languages already, that one new one couldn't take too long to learn.

Having finally freed the brush from its packaging, he scooted so that he was beside Tabby and told her, "This might feel strange at first, but the person at the pet store said that it was the best way to keep you from getting hairballs." Tabby yawned. Cas did a single swipe of the brush down Tabby's back, and she stood back up, her tail standing up straight and vibrating. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Cas asked her, but she didn't reply. He tried another stroke of the brush, and Tabby sidestepped out of the way.

"Hm." Cas sat fully down on the floor, his elbows propped on his knees and his chin resting in his hands. He'd been on Earth long enough to know that this brush had cost a fair amount of money and so he didn't want to stop using it, but Tabby had made it clear that the current approach wasn't working. "What gets your attention most, Tabby? You like sleeping in sunbeams, playing with your toys, and eating, but I don't think any of those would be great for brushing you." He supposed he could wait for her to nap, but he'd hate to wake her up once she was asleep. And when she was playing or eating she was moving too much to really brush well.

A sudden thought occurred to him. "What if I got you your favorite catnip toy?" She loved it and would lick and sniff it for minutes at a time when she got a hold of it. Cas got up and rummaged through Tabby's toy bin, finally emerging with the catnip rainbow toy. "Here, Tabby, would you like your catnip?" Tabby sniffed it, licked it once, and then flopped to her side. Cas chuckled as he dropped the toy into her waiting paws.

This time, Tabby didn't notice Cas brushing her, and soon the teeth of the brush were full of soft, downy fur that spiraled through the air when Cas plucked it off the brush. He rolled it around on his fingers, marveling at how plush it felt, but then focused back on Tabby and brushing her. Once he'd thoroughly brushed one side, he gently urged her to roll over so that he could brush the other.

Several minutes later, he had a pile of fur that had to be as big as Tabby. "How do you have fur left on you?" he asked, and Tabby looked up from the catnip rainbow, her pupils so large they almost swallowed her irises. "Are you on cat drugs?" He asked, smiling. Dean had said that catnip was basically marijuana, but Cas couldn't agree with that—catnip was legal everywhere, for one thing, and Tabby wasn't high...exactly. Very happy, more like it. But he enjoyed teasing Tabby about her supposed catnip habit. After watching Tabby for a few more minutes, he gathered up all of the fur on the floor and deposited it in a plastic bag. Maybe birds would like to use it to line their nests? He'd have to go back to the library to learn more.

**Author's Note:**

> I like imagining Castiel doing a whole range of normal human things badly, and this is the result of one such musing session.


End file.
